


Momentous

by wernythepoohx



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Awkward Flirting, F/M, Sigrid is wonderful, bit of Sigrid backstory, movieverse, pretty much follows dos and botfa, with a little bit extra and headcanon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 10:08:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5493383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wernythepoohx/pseuds/wernythepoohx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To say that Sigrid has had an eventful day is an understatement.</p><p>Featuring dragons, burning lakes, and feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Momentous

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic in this fandom! I absolutely adore The Hobbit, and love reading the fanfics, so I thought I had better return the favour. Also my first time writing in present tense, or something with such length. Thanks for reading! :)

“Hi there Miss, would you care for a purse?” Sigrid wanders in the marketplace, approaching any vendors who seem available to talk to.

“Aye Sigrid,” the woman greets, taking a pale blue purse from Sigrid’s hands. “One would be much-”

“Unappreciated.” Sigrid turns to see a hunchback with a monobrow. She sighs inwardly. Alfrid Lickspittle.

 

“Look what we have here,” Alfrid sneers. “The daughter of the Bargeman.”

Sigrid tries not to let her fists crunch into his face at his biting tone. “I am merely going about my routine, Alfrid.”

“Routine? You mean forcing your stupid useless... _ things  _ onto others?” She clenches her fingers tighter around her purses while Alfrid continues.

“I would not be seen with one. It’s basically tearing at the seams!” He snatches it from the lady, and creates a large hole down the side. Sigrid gasps, while Alfrid throws the purse harshly in her face.

“They are not needed here, daughter of Bard. You are just like him, you are. You and your siblings. An annoying nuisance and waste of space. Take your monstrosities and leave.” He stalks away. Sigrid composes herself as best she can - after someone insults you and your family, how can you not feel the slightest bit hurt? - and grabs at her now broken purse.

Turning to the lady seller, she asks, “Would you still like one, Miss?”

The lady looks uneasily at Sigrid’s hands, which grip at the clutch tightly. “I am sorry Sigrid, but I have to decline.”

“Really Miss, I can fix it up for you, or give you another one!” Sigrid frantically reaches into her satchel, to find another to give to her customer.

“Nay, I am sorry; I cannot purchase one.” As Sigrid accepts defeat and returns the broken purse to her satchel, the lady mutters the next bit thinking Sigrid cannot hear: “I cannot risk anyone harming my family, especially Alfrid or the Master. Best leave it for Bard’s family, better them than mine.”

Sigrid bristles. The nerve! Whatever did Bard and their family do to the people of Laketown? She puts on her best fake smile, and wishes the other lady a good day. As she turns around to go home, Sigrid notices the undeniable sign of the entire marketplace stilling to watch the scene unfold.

 

Sigrid arrives home, slamming the door shut. Bain appears from around the corner, and opens his mouth to greet Sigrid, but registers her frustrated face and frayed yarn pouring out from her satchel, and instead smiles slightly at her. He wordlessly comes and brings her sewing materials, setting them down lightly by the chair at the fireplace. Sigrid’s heart warms; at least her family understands and cares.

 

Sigrid mends the purse, subconsciously noticing the day creep into night around her. Tilda and Bain bickering over small things, her father returning home from a sort of meeting in the town centre about...dwarves? Ah, it matters not to her. Sigrid leaves her purse for the time being, and prepares dinner for her family. As the oldest female in the household, Sigrid constantly steps up and completes all sorts of tasks, namely trading or bartering to provide what she can for her father and younger siblings. After all, her family is the most important thing in her life, and she will do anything to see them well.

 

A frantic knock sounds on the door as she is clearing away the dishes. She hears it open, followed by a “I’m done with dwarves. Go away,” and then a forlorn “No one will help us. Kili’s sick.”

Plagued with curiosity, Sigrid walks to find something she never expected: four dwarves standing at her doorstep, three of them supporting another with a paper white face who seemed to be in immense pain.

 

_ He's very sick _ , Sigrid thinks. They all rush to clear the table, and rests whom she assumes is Kili on it.

“Tilda, go get the medical supplies!” Sigrid commands. Tilda runs off, and Bain helps her Da and the dwarves make the table comfortable for Kili to lie upon. Sigrid rushes to dampen some clothes to press against Kili’s burning forehead. He groans loudly, writhing about, gripping his right thigh with a large blackening wound.

 

“Can you not do something?!” Sigrid turns to see a dwarf with blonde hair, gripping onto Kili’s hand as if his life is linked to his.

“I need herbs,” a dwarf with an ear trumpet speaks. “Something to bring down his fever.”

Her father opens the cupboards, “We have nightshade. We have feverfew.”

“They are of no use to me,” the dwarf replies. Sigrid takes a deep breath, running her hands through her messy hair, completely frazzled. The golden-haired dwarf grips ever more tightly on Kili’s arm, muttering unheard comforts.

 

Then Sigrid sees a dwarf with a winged hat rush out the door, repeating “pigs” and “weed” over and over. She sits down in the armchair, suddenly weary. Sigrid has had a long day; the purse debacle, and now this, a sick dwarf.

“Rest, Fili,” she hears someone say, but does not look up, as she is too engrossed in her thoughts. Rustling comes from somewhere next to her, and she realises the dwarf with the golden hair is sat beside her. At a closer look, Sigrid notices how multiple braids adorn his hair and moustache, and thinks back to her knowledge of Dwarven culture, of how braids symbolise the status - class or courting - of both male and female.  _ He must be a well off dwarf,  _ she thinks.

 

They do not speak for a few minutes, instead listening to Kili’s moans and watching him squirm on the table, while her father and Bain try to hold him down as Oin presses cloths into Kili’s wounds. Sigrid speaks, “Kili is important to you.” It was a statement, with an underlying tone of questioning.

“He is my brother.” He pauses. “Fili, at your service.”

“Sigrid, at your service,” she smiles slightly. Without thinking, she speaks. “I see myself in you, Master Fili.”

“How so?”

Sigrid hesitates, cursing herself inwardly as to why she spoke. “I see how you must be the elder sibling, as you would not leave your brother’s side, even at his worst. I assume you would do anything for him. I, too, am an older sister to two, and I truly understand the feeling of doing anything for them.”

“Aye. You are correct.”

“I feel for you, I really do. I would not know how to react if Bain or Tilda were in Kili’s position, so close to death.” Noticing Fili’s sudden lack of movement, Sigrid backtracks. “My apologies, I did not mean to worry you. I am sure your healer can help him.”

“I know what is to become of Kili on this current path,” he sighs, his hands fidgeting in his lap. “But it does not mean I will stand by and not offer him any support.”

Suddenly, to Sigrid, he looks even smaller than he is.  _ Vulnerability _ , she thinks,  _ can do this to someone _ .

 

Sigrid places her hands over his, stilling his rough, large ones. She looks down at him through her eyelashes, and offers a smile. Fili takes out one hand and places it over hers, before returning her smile, the braids on his moustache swishing minutely side to side. A small sense of pride and something unidentifiable swells within Sigrid as she takes in Fili’s appearance. How dashing. Maybe after this, Fili would go home, and find himself a wonderful dwarven bride to spend his days with. Yet, Sigrid thinks it would be wonderful to remain in contact with Fili, or even be friends.

 

The house shakes, and Sigrid is filled with dread. “Da?” She hastily takes her hands away from Fili’s, feeling an emptiness where his hand used to encompass hers. Her father makes eye contact with her, and says quietly, “It’s coming from the mountain.”

 

Fili jumps up, running to Bard. “You should leave us. Take your children and get out of here.”

“And go where? We have nowhere to go.”

Tilda appears, “Are we going to die, Da?”

Bard hastily grabs Tilda and hugs her. “No, darling.”

“But the dragon! It’s going to kill us!”

“Not if I kill it first.”

 

Sigrid beckons for Tilda, who runs over to her, hugging her legs through her worn blue dress. She wraps her arms around Tilda’s small stature, and watches as her father pulls out a black arrow from the fishing ropes that she has always passed, but never given much thought to. He calls Bain, and together they leave the house, before Sigrid has the chance to wish them safety. Her terror must show on her face, as Fili comes over and places a fleeting touch to her elbow.

“They will be fine.”

 

\---

 

Kili still lies on the table, his face turning even whiter, if that was at all possible. As Sigrid is about to feel his forehead for the temperature, she hears a creak come from outside. She opens the door, calling out a single, “Da?”

Instead of seeing a familiar face, a gruesome creature meets her, and she lets out a scream. Orcs begin to file in through the door, and she rushes to find Tilda, who cowers in the corner. She ushers Tilda to hide under the table, but does not get that far, as another foul creature jumps in front of them, ready to swing his sword down. Sigrid pushes Tilda behind her, not wanting her to take the brunt of the violence. But the orc is wrestled away, and Sigrid realises that Fili had jumped in front of her to protect the two sisters. Instead of feeling relief, she feels worry, as Fili struggles to overcome the orc. But feeling slightly guilty, Sigrid’s highest priority is Tilda’s safety, and without wasting any more valuable time standing in the midst of a fight, she takes Tilda’s hand and rushes to their table, where Kili has inadvertently slipped off of.

 

The battle blurs, and Sigrid can hardly remember remember anything save the screaming, and a pair of elves dispatching the orcs with agility.

 

As the house settles down from the orc pack encounter, Kili lets out an airy groan. The red-haired she-elf snaps her head towards him, eyes widening. The male elf beckons for her to follow, but as she takes in the green plant in the winged-hat dwarf’s hands, she ignores her companion, and tends to Kili’s wound.

 

Sigrid has never seen Elvish healing: but all she remembers is chanting and a bright white light. And also Fili standing in the corner next to her. And, potentially a conversation that unfolded as thus:

_ “Thank you, Master Dwarf,” Sigrid acknowledges. _

_ “There is no need for thanks, my lady. I was merely doing what had to be done.” _

_ Sigrid squirms a little. Who is she, to be addressed as someone in such a position? “You did not have to risk your life for ours, and for that I am truly grateful. And please, just call me Sigrid.” _

_ Fili smiles. “And I am just Fili.” _

_ They lapse into a silence. After a moment, Sigrid feels a little awkward, and quickly says, “You should go be with your brother, Fili.” _

_ “Nay, the she-elf is healing him, and I would not dare to interrupt. Besides, I would much rather stay here with you and enjoy your company.” Sigrid’s heartbeat begins to get irregular. He enjoys her company? She feels her cheeks heat up, and she brings her hand up to conceal her crimson cheeks. _

_ “Oh would you look at that, she’s done,” Sigrid gestures to Kili and the elf, glad to divert Fili’s attention from her flaming face to his brother.  _ As it should be,  _ she sighs, staring at Fili’s small yet stocky body zip to Kili’s. _

 

_ \--- _

 

Everyone congregates in their family boat. Da, Bain explains, has been arrested by the Master and remains in a prison cell. Sigrid finds it hard to breathe: why is she going through such stress? She stumbles slightly, falling down into the wooden seats lining the boat. Fili is quick to rush to her side, placing his hand on her lower back. Sigrid looks up, smiling in thanks. Fili returns it, the crinkles by his eye deepening. Sigrid sees the dwarf with the winged hat - whom she now recognises as Bofur - grinning at them, his eyebrows raised in a knowing manner. She coughs once, and Fili jerks his hand back as if burned. Her back now feels cold, and Sigrid marvels at how easily his hand seems to envelope her lower back, and also how she feels his touch all the way up her spine.

 

The lake erupts in fire, surrounding the boat carrying three humans, four dwarves, and an elf. Sigrid turns around to check Tilda and Bain’s safety, when she takes notice of the bell tower. Her eyes widen as she lets out a fear-stricken “Da!”, when she sees her father shoot arrow after arrow at the approaching dragon.

“He hit it!” Kili yells eagerly.

“No,” Tauriel replies. “Only a black arrow can fell the beast.”

Sigrid grabs onto the boat’s ledge. Suddenly, Bain leaps out of the boat and runs. Sigrid screams and reaches to grab him, but her fingers fall short. She attempts to get out of her seat, but is kept there by a firm hand on her wrist.

“We must leave him,” Tauriel turns to her briefly, leaving her and Tilda in anguish. Fili lays his hand over her hers, which offers her unspoken comfort. Tilda looks at their hands, frowning slightly.

“Sigrid, why is the dwarf holding your hand?”

 

\---

 

Their boat arrives at a rocky shore, joining a number of other boats carrying the former Esgaroth’s inhabitants. Sigrid jumps out and begins pushing, eyes searching for her Da and Bain. She doesn’t notice Fili staring dejectedly at her figure, but Kili does. He slaps his brother’s shoulder, empathising with him.

 

Sigrid gratefully takes two blankets from a woman offering, wrapping one around Tilda. She goes to wrap her blanket over her own shoulders, but the tasseled ends get trapped in the simple gold band around her wrist as she drags it over and behind her.  _ Confound all this gold!  _ Sigrid thinks.  _ Beautiful yet capable of causing such hardships. _

 

Someone grabs her wrist and she whips around, but relaxes when she sees Fili smiling up at her, untangling the tassels from her.

“Thank you, Fili,” she says.

“You are most welcome,” he gives the inside of her wrist a minute stroke, which Sigrid feels tenfold. She blushes, and quickly says to cover her embarrassment: “I presume you and your fellow dwarves are going to the mountain now.”

“Aye, we are indeed,” Fili replies, almost wistfully.

 

Sigrid figures this might be the last time they meet. She cannot bear to not see the dwarf; he had grown on her, in more ways than one.

“Without sounding too brash,” Sigrid says, thinking of how out of character she is currently being. “I wish to see you again. I mean, I enjoy your company.”

Fili grins. “And I you. But I will be in Thorin’s company.”

A giggle escapes Sigrid’s mouth before she can stop it.

“Your laughter is a light in this world where there currently is none.”

“Fili!” He turns around to see Bofur gesturing for him to help push the boat out, heading in the direction of the Lonely Mountain.

 

Sigrid kneels down and hugs him for the first and only time.

 

\---

 

Fili looks back at the shore, where he sees a large crowd, the top of Bard’s head sticking out as his arm is raised in the air. He spots Sigrid next to him, and smiles inwardly. She would be okay. Bard would keep her safe.

 

He turns around, and does not look back.

**Author's Note:**

> MOMENTOUS  
> mə(ʊ)ˈmɛntəs  
> adj.  
> of great importance or significance.


End file.
